Field of Innocence
by flyzonked
Summary: While Harry's life goes from bad to worse, Severus tries to be his friend and help him through it. As he watches Harry go through a war, lost friendships and heartbreak, he starts to realise exactly how much he cares for the Boy Who Lived
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** While Harry's life goes from bad to worse, Severus tries to be his friend and help him through it. As he watches Harry go through a war, lost friendships and heartbreak, he starts to realise exactly how much he cares for the Boy-Who-Lived, but will he be enough?

HP/OMC, HP/DM, HP/SS, DM/OMC (Background pairings both slash and het included).

**Warnings:** Character Death (not Harry or Sev), MPREG, Non-con, Suicidal Tendencies, Violence.

**Disclaimer** - Anything you recognise belongs to J K Rowling, anything you don't belongs to me. No money is being made from this, so don't sue me, ok?

**Prologue**

'Harry?' Luca shouted up the stairs, 'Harry! Come on, we're going to be late!' He sighed heavily. Could they never get out on time? He loved Harry with all his heart , but the lad was late for everything!

He looked at his watch and huffing irritably, he stomped up the stairs to hurry his lover along.

'Harry, for crying out loud, we have to be at the opening in twenty minutes and we have to pick Teresa up on the way!' He yelled over the pounding music coming from their bedroom, 'if we don't leave now, we're never going to get there on time!' He thumped on the door, then realising Harry wouldn't hear him knocking, he rolled his eyes and pushed it open.

'What on Earth is taking you so long anyway……' he stopped, staring at his boyfriend, his heart hammering, his hand clenched around the door handle. He couldn't think, he couldn't even breathe as his shocked mind took in the sight of his child lying silent and still on the floor covered in blood, and Harry, leaning over her tiny body holding some sort of stick, his hands stained crimson.

'Oh God, you……you're……' his words failed him, but his shocked brain suddenly came back to its senses with a rush and with an anguished cry, he launched himself at Harry.

'GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!' He screamed at him, grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him away from his little girl. Ignoring the crash from behind him as Harry smashed into the mirrored wardrobe, he fell to his knees and gingerly picked his baby up, crying frightened and angry tears as he pulled her close to his body.

'What have you done?' He whimpered.

'Luca,' he heard from behind him, 'it…..it's not what you think!'

He turned, still clasping his daughter to his chest and stood up slowly. He glared at his lover, his eyes swollen and filled with the pain of betrayal.

'How could you……' he whispered hoarsely, 'you hurt her, you've k……you've killed her! You've killed my baby!' He shook terribly, his grief falling in on him and he buried his face in her soft hair as he wept, the familiar scent of crayons and strawberry lollipops only causing him to sob harder into her curls.

'Oh my God, Luca she's not dead! Not Yet, I can help her! Please Luca, give her to me, let me help?'

Luca watched warily as Harry grunted and pushed himself off the floor, seeming not to care as his hands were shredded on the shards of broken glass. He backed up slowly as Harry limped toward him, arms outstretched and tears rolling down his face.

He turned slightly, shielding his daughter.

'No, I can't, you're one of them, you're evil,' he said quietly, almost to himself. His eyes fell from Harry's bleeding hands to the artistically carved wooden stick still lying in the pool of his daughter's blood, 'you're one of them. You're one of _them!' _

Harry frowned.

'Luc, you're not making any sense. Look,' he sighed shakily and rubbed his hand across his forehead, laving a bloody streak, 'just come and sit on the bed and let me take a look at Maria."

'No, I……I have to get her to a hospital, she's bleeding!'

'They can't help her at the hospital Luc, just let me look at her, you don't even have to let go, I promise, you can hold her the whole time. Please?'

Luca stared at him and shook his head violently, tightening his grip on Maria. This man he thought he knew, thought he had loved…….had tried to kill his baby! His 'Bambino Adorato'. And he wanted him to give her back so he could finish the job? No! He was evil! Just like them! He even had one of those sticks that looked so God damned innocent but could end your life in a heartbeat. No, he wouldn't let it happen again, he would not let those……those _freaks _take away someone else he loved.

He shifted Maria in his arms, pulling her close to his chest and with one last hatred filled look at Harry, he darted quickly through the doorway and half ran, half stumbled down the stairs, fighting the urge to look behind him. Grabbing his keys off the hall table, he ran out to the driveway and after wrapping his daughter in the tartan picnic blanket he kept on the back seat of the car, he got in the driver's seat with her in his lap, thanking God for giving him the sense to buy an automatic. His hand trembled violently, but eventually he managed to slide the key into the ignition. Panting heavily from the panic and the exertion, he started the engine and the last thing he heard before driving away was Harry screaming desperately from the front door of the house:

'LUCA, PLEASE!'

(End chapter)


	2. 1 Clicks and Whistles

**A/N Minor language in this chapter, the original version has a lot of F's in it and can be read on my LJ (link on my profile). If you go to my LJ, you will also find a link to a picture done for this chapter.**

**Field of Innocence**

Chapter one - 'Clicks and Whistles.'  
  
Harry had been back at Four Privet Drive for two weeks. It had been business as usual at the Dursleys' so far, and as he sat miserably on his squeaky little camp bed in Dudley's second bedroom watching the rain trickle down the window pane and doodling through the condensation, he rather suspected the only reason they were leaving him alone for the first  
time in a fortnight was because they had simply run out of things for him to do or to punish him for.

He huffed, feeling completely disgusted with himself because he'd prefer to be busy being used as the Dursleys' house-elf than to be sat in his room with nothing to distract him from the maudlin thoughts constantly roaming about his head like they owned the place.

He shook his head and thought back to a few months before the end of term. Professor Dumbledore had called him to his office, where he had found an extremely pissed off Potions Master glaring hatefully at the Headmaster, obviously trying to burn the older man to a cinder with just his eyes. It seemed that the black-haired man had at the very least a strong suspicion about why he had been summoned, and wasn't at all happy about whatever it was. Harry had noticed that although Professor Dumbledore had seemed very uncomfortable and sheepish, he had still been trying (very bravely, Harry thought) to twinkle.

The conversation that took place in the office that day, was probably one of the most uncomfortable of Harry's life so far. The Headmaster had informed him with a half-amused half- pleading expression that Snape would be giving him special training four days a week. Harry had been understandably horrified and while he would've liked to have immediately thrown a tantrum, Snape had beaten him to it.

Severus Snape, menacing Potions professor, sinister Death Eater and all around scary bastard - had thrown a sherbet lemon at Dumbledore's head, stamped his feet and yelled in sentences littered with words Harry hadn't understood, many of which had made him blush when he'd looked them up afterwards in a dictionary. When the man had finally run out of steam, he'd turned to Harry, ordered him with a glare to be at the Room of Requirement after dinner the next day, and departed with the usual swirling of robes.

The actual meeting with Snape had been nothing like what Harry had expected. He smiled and chuckled slightly, letting his mind wander back.

He'd stood outside the room expecting swords and daggers hung on the walls inside, shelves full of DADA books and the Professor stood in the middle of the floor pointing a wand at him. What he'd actually walked into was a room that looked like a giant fish tank, sounded like dolphins on acid and smelt like Trelawney's classroom.…

OooooooooooO

His brow furrowed in confusion, Harry slowly stepped through the doorway and looked around the Room of Requirement in amazement. The entire room looked like an Aquarian centre he'd seen advertised on the telly once when he'd been polishing it. The stone walls and ceiling were gone and he was instead surrounded by a dome of sparkling glass, showing a vast ocean outside of them, filled with all kinds of sea-life, including the magical. Harry stared with wide eyes and a gaping mouth as a giant Killer Whale and it's calf swam across the wall closest to him, accompanied surprisingly, by a mermaid who looked nothing like the ones that dwelled beneath the lake. She was small, just a child, with lovely pearly skin that glistened prettily and very long white hair that glittered as it floated behind her. Harry had moved slowly to the glass, gazing at the little girl. Without even realising it, he put his hand on the cool surface and out of nowhere he heard an androgynous voice whispering calmly in his head :

_'The The Orca or Killer Whale (Orcinus orca) is the largest species of the oceanic dolphin family. It is found...'  
_  
Harry, taken by surprise, jumped back from the glass in fright, his heart pounding. As he looked again at the group of creatures before him, he smiled shyly as the young mermaid giggled at him, little bubbles escaping her mouth and nose as she laughed. She swam gracefully to the glass and put one tiny hand flat against it, gesturing with the other for him to come closer. Harry walked forward and reached out hesitantly, putting his hand back on the cold glass where it had been before, which he noticed now, was exactly over the whales.

_'The Orca or Killer Whale (Orcinus orca) is the largest species of the oceanic dolphin family. It is found in all the world's oceans, from the frigid Arctic and Antarctic regions to warm, tropical seas. Orcas are highly social and generally travel in stable, matrilineal family groups. Orcas are versatile predators with some populations feeding mostly on fish and others on other marine mammals, including other large whales. Wild Orcas are usually not considered a threat to humans. There have, however, been isolated reports of captive Orcas attacking their handlers at marine theme parks, commercial aquariums built and organised by muggles where marine  
mammals such as dolphins, beluga whales and sea lions are kept within water  
tanks and displayed to the muggle public in special shows...'  
_  
Harry stopped listening to the voice and looked up at the mermaid who had gone to the calf and was stroking it's dorsal with a sad expression on her face. He winced in sympathy and watched as the mother whale took off into the distance and did a few summersaults in the water, as if to prove to Harry how much happier free whales where to their unfortunate cousins in captivity. She swam back slowly, having proven her point and Harry looked away from her, sliding his hand so it was over the mermaid.

_'The Niveus Phasma Maris, also known as the White Phantom of the Sea or the Albino sea-angel, is the rarest species of the salt-water merfolk family. Members of this species occupy all oceans of the world and they hold little similarity to their fresh-water cousins. These beautiful creatures are born with the instinctive ability to become invisible to the human eye using a variation of the disillusionment charm and therefore are rarely spotted by anyone other than children as they refuse to show themselves but to young wizards and witches still in possession of their innocence. Exceptions with adults have proven to be those with learning difficulties or an adult who carries a child in their womb. In these cases, the sightings have been brief and the people involved report not quite being able to get a clear look at the creature, just a detailed blur. It is due to these fleeting glimpses the creatures earned their name. The White Phantom is also often referred to as the Albino Sea Angel, affectionately named by the parents of Sebastian Tatterby, a small child who was rescued by one of the creatures after he fell from a fishing boat in the year 1843. Since then the name has gained popularity and is now the name most often applied. White Phantoms are highly sociable and travel in family groups, often following the family groups of larger sea-mammals, such as the Orca. The level of trust seen between the two different species is amazing - Phantom adults will often leave their  
young with the Orcas while they hunt...'  
_  
The whispering trailed off as Harry moved his hand away from the glass distracted by the calf swimming to it's mother. He grinned and looked at the mermaid. She smiled and waved at him, and then with a flick of her blue tail, she turned and swam quickly after the whale, leaving a trail of tiny bubbles behind her...

OooooooooooO

Harry had stood watching the ocean and the life within it for an hour, occasionally laying his hands on the walls of the dome to hear descriptions of some the weird and wonderful animals. After a while, he'd remembered that Professor Snape was supposed to be meeting him there and wondered where he was. He'd heard a throat clearing behind him a spun round so fast his neck hurt, to discover Professor Snape stood behind him pointing at him, not with a wand, but with a blue beanbag dotted with hearts. Harry had just stared until the Professor had snapped at him to take the beanbag and sit down in the circle.

Harry had grabbed the bag in fright and had looked around in confusion, until all of a sudden, he'd heard a whispered word, and a light had flared from the far end of the dome. He'd walked to the light nervously, uncomfortably aware of Snape following him, and he saw that the light was actually a large circle of ivory candles, in the very edge of which sat...

OooooooooooO

'Malfoy!?' Harry blinked. Draco Malfoy was in front of him, looking very relaxed, his legs crossed in front of him, his hands behind his head and his posh arrogant arse sunk into a giant hot pink beanbag. There was a low table in front of him with a large white candle, a pensieve and several crystals of various colours laid out on it. Malfoy had picked one of the stones up, and was fiddling with it idly. Harry frowned at him.

'How long have you been here?' He asked suspiciously.

'Long enough to watch you flirting with the little mermaid,' Malfoy smirked, 'didn't know you were into scales, Potter, you must fancy the Dark Lord something rotten.'

'No thanks Malfoy,' Harry replied, pushing down the sudden nausea that came with _that_ image 'Kneeling in front of dirty old men is more your style than mine, I reckon. I heard those rumours going round about you a few months ago, no smoke without fire and all that.'

'Those rumours, Scar-head,' Malfoy snarled, 'Are just that - rumours. I wouldn't touch Filch with a ten-foot broomstick!'

Harry shrugged and sat down on his beanbag, smirking.

'It's okay Malfoy, I'm not judging you. Everyone has different tastes, just because yours are little more...perverted…..than others, doesn't make you a bad person.' He grinned at Malfoy, who was spluttering, 'After all, beneath those robes he wears that stink of cat-pee, he probably has the body of an Adonis.'

Harry's grin got wider as he watched Malfoy go more and more green.

'I can just see you two together, Filch, panting and wheezing, hairy arse going like a jackhammer, his naked body glistening with sweat. And you, draped over his desk, Filch pounding into you...oh Filchey! Harder, faster! FILCHEEEEEEY!'

'That is enough!'

Harry and Malfoy both looked up to see Snape towering over them, scowling.

'Twenty points from Gryffindor Mr Potter,' he growled, 'for that revolting image.'

Harry accepted the point loss gracefully, after all, the visual _was_ rather disgusting. Besides, one look at Malfoy, who was still looking quite nauseous, made it well worth it. Snape threw another beanbag on the floor and gracefully lowered himself onto it. Harry stared and wondered how the professor could still manage to look dignified whilst planting his arse on a giant purple pillow with daisies on it.

'Shut your trap, Mr Potter,' Snape said, catching Harry's look, 'it was all they had left.'

'Sorry Sir?' Harry questioned after noticing Malfoy's equally curious look.

'I will explain why you're both here only once,' Snape replied, rudely ignoring Harry's question, 'so pay attention...and stop playing with that bloody stone!' He reached over and snatched the crystal away from Malfoy, who immediately and typically sunk further into his beanbag, crossing his arms and pouting, looking very much like a spoilt two year old. Snape  
slammed the stone back down on the table and turned to Harry, crossing his legs.

'Mr Potter,' he continued, 'As you are aware, you are to meet me here every Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday after dinner for special training, which includes, but is not limited to, sword fighting, physical combat, duelling, occlumency, magical offence and defence. Any questions so far? No? Excellent, moving on...'

'Er...wait, sir!' Harry quickly interrupted before Snape could blather on, 'Um, what exactly is Occlumency?'

'Honestly, Potter, don't you know anything?' Malfoy sat up straighter and glanced sideways at Snape, 'Occlumency is the practice of shielding one's mind against intrusion. Not to be confused with Legilimency, which is the art of invading another's mind.' He sat back and smirked, obviously expecting Snape to reward him, which to Harry's annoyance, he did.

'Excellent Mr Malfoy, ten points to Slytherin. Now to continue...now what!?'

'Um Sir...eh...why do I have to learn Occlumency?' Harry asked timidly, lowering his hand, 'In fact, why do I have to learn any of these things? I mean, I can understand the defensive stuff what with the bad guys plotting against me every year, but why the offensive stuff?'

'Why occlumency, Mr Potter? Have you not been experiencing nightly visions from the Dark Lord, watching unwillingly as he and his followers torture, rape and murder helpless muggles?'

Harry's head shot up and his eyes locked with Snape's. Visions? He had been having nightmares every night ever since a few weeks after that horrible night at the graveyard, but he'd thought they were just that - nightmares. How had Snape even known about it?

The dreams where horrifying enough to make him scream, true, but after he'd gotten back to school, he had been careful to put up silencing spells around his bed so as not to wake anyone. Could it be possible that his mind was somehow connecting with Voldemort's while he was asleep? Was Voldemort even aware of it? How was that possible?

He scowled and brought his hand to his face, touching his scar, lightly. Was that it? Could Voldemort get into his mind through that? How could he have been so dense, his scar had been hurting all the time! He'd thought it was just because he was dreaming of Ol' Snake face, he'd never considered for a second that it might be because the bastard was actually in  
his head!

'Yes, you are correct Mr Potter,' Snape drawled, interrupting his train of thought, 'you _are_ dense, however, I refer not to that, but to your thoughts on how The Dark Lord connects with you. When he is feeling any emotion strongly, such as great anger or even joy - he seems to be almost broadcasting his awareness to you, which is why you so often find yourself occupying his mind, feeling his emotions and hearing his thoughts as if you yourself are him. You see, Mr Potter, he does not invade your mind, he unknowingly invites you into his. As for your scar being the conduit for this transference, it is not certain. As you are the only person to have ever survived a killing curse, there is no frame of reference, but I think it's fairly safe to assume due to the pain you have been experiencing in the area, that it is in fact so.' He paused and pulled his wand out of his sleeve. After pointing it at the table a teapot and three cups appeared, and he poured himself a cup, ignoring Harry's frown as he sipped.

'Mr Potter,' He began again, putting his cup back on the table and crossing his arms, 'if you call me a 'Greasy Git' again, whether by mouth or mind, I will personally see to it that you spend the rest of the year in detention with me, gutting Flobberworms. No, Mr Potter, I am not 'reading your mind' as you put it, for the mind is not a book. Legilimency, Mr Potter, is an art, one which I am skilfully using to explore the regions of your tiny mind with unfortunate ease. Occlumency will be first on our agenda I should think.'

Harry glared at Malfoy, who had begun to snicker, and then narrowing his eyes, he turned back to Snape, who was pouring himself another cup of tea. Suddenly, Snape looked up at him, his face an expression of rage.

'DETENTION POTTER!' He yelled angrily (having no affect on Harry whatsoever because a grown man sitting on a flowery beanbag with a dainty cup in one hand and a china teapot in the other is the stuff of no-one's nightmares), 'for the rest of the year!'

'Worth it.' Harry mumbled, lowering his head to hide his smile.

'What?' asked Malfoy, who was bouncing on his beanbag with all the excitement, 'what was it? What did he say? Severus!'

Snape turned and glared at Malfoy.

'Sorry Sir...er...Professor Snape. Please Sir, what did he say?'

'I would not soil my own tongue Mr Malfoy by repeating it. Oh do stop sulking, Draco, it doesn't become you. As for you Mr Potter,' he turned to Harry, 'fifty points from Gryffindor for having a filthy mind. I've never heard anything so disgusting in all my life!'

'Sorry sir.' Harry grumbled. Snape nodded in acceptance and put down the teapot which seemed to have finally realised he was still holding. 'You were about to explain about the offensive training Sir?' Harry prodded.

Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his abnormally large nose.

'Offensive training, Potter, is essential for anyone whose life is annually threatened by a Dark Lord. Although Defence is a priority, you need to be able to fight back, otherwise it would be ridiculously easy for an attacker to simply back you into a corner and wait for you to tire. However,' he leaned over and pulled the pensive closer to the middle of the table and gestured for Harry and Malfoy to come closer, 'there is another purpose to your training. Observe.'

Harry watched as Snape reached inside his robes, pulled out a small bottle with filled with a shimmering substance and uncorked it, pouring it into the basin. He dipped the end of his wand into the pensieve and a tiny image of Trelawney appeared, speaking in the same hoarse voice Harry had heard the time she made the prophecy to him about Wormtail:

_'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...'  
_  
The slowly spinning figure of the Divinations Professor sank back into the pensieve and vanished.

'Insufferable woman.' Snape muttered, putting his wand away.

Harry stared at the pensive, wondering what Trelawney had meant. Was a child going to be born in the near future with the ability to defeat Voldemort? If so, what did that have to do with Harry's offensive training? Born to those who have thrice defied him...power the Dark Lord knows not...who did it mean? Born as the seventh month dies...Harry's breath caught in his throat and he raised his eyes, meeting Snape's obsidian gaze...oh. 

OooooooooooO

Harry had almost gone into shock. It had taken four cups of _very_ sugary tea before Snape (whom Harry was sure had actually begun to look a little concerned at one point) had been able to calm him down enough to hear an explanation. It had  
turned out that the prophecy could've been about Harry _or_ Neville Longbottom of all people. Voldemort had apparently only managed to hear half the prophecy, but it was enough to send him after the two baby boys and according to Snape, Harry was Voldemort's equal because he was the one Voldemort had considered more threatening. This had seemed a bit far-fetched to Harry, but after a lot of arguing, Harry had eventually and begrudgingly accepted that the prophecy referred to him….

OooooooooooO

Harry leaned back in his beanbag and tried to breathe properly as Professor Snape pried the empty cup from his hands to refill it for the fifth time.

'What was the end of it again?' He asked softly.

'Neither can live while the other survives,' Snape repeated, 'here.' He thrust the now full cup into Harry's hands and sat back, crossing his arms. Harry distractedly took a big gulp of the tea and immediately pitched forward, spitting the red hot liquid out and clasping his throat.

'Mr Potter, surely even a dunderhead like yourself would have more sense than to guzzle down a boiling beverage,' Snape sneered, handing him a potion, 'Ingestible burn salve, Potter.'

Harry took the vial and poured the orange liquid into his mouth, swilling it wound a bit to soothe his stinging tongue before swallowing it.

'Thanks,' He wheezed, handing the empty vial back. He coughed a few times, and waited until his throat was a little less sore before speaking again, 'So...the end...what does that mean? That one of us has to kill the other?'

'Yes.'

'So...I've got to either murder or be murdered, have I got that right?' He asked quietly.

'That is correct, Mr Potter.'

Harry brought his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, staring at a spot on the floor.

'So,' he paused, frowning, 'basically I'm fucked.'

'Ten points from Gryffindor for language, Potter,' Snape said calmly, 'would you care to explain your statement?'

Harry stared at him incredulously.

'You can't honestly think I have even the slightest chance of beating him? He's one of the most powerful wizards in the world for fuck's sake!'

'Twenty points from Gryffi...'

'I DON'T CARE!' Harry exploded, leaping off the beanbag, his eyes flashing, 'Take all the points you want, I don't give a shit! I've just been told that I'm the Wizarding World's best weapon against Voldemort, I've got bigger things to worry about than bloody house points!' He breathed in raggedly and turned to Snape, who during Harry's outburst had leant back calmly on his beanbag with his arms crossed, watching the small brunette with an expression of indifference. Harry looked him straight in the eye, 'What will happen to everyone? If he wins...what will happen?'

'The Dark Lord could choose many paths, Potter. Although he despises Muggles and muggleborns, I do not believe they'll kill them all. He will spare their lives, citing it as mercy. In my opinion, it would be more merciful to slaughter them.' He paused and raised an eyebrow at Harry, who was glaring at him from across the circle, 'They will be forced into enslavement Potter. Muggleborns will be stripped of their magic and made to join the muggles. The most submissive men and women will be put into a breeding pen to produce more slaves, ready to be trained from birth, while the rest will be sterilised and put to manual labour where they will be worked until they collapse from exhaustion. Some men and women will be auctioned off as concubines, destined to spend the rest of their miserable  
lives being raped and humiliated. Those too old to work or breed will be abused for entertainment. The Dark Lord will select the most attractive children and offer them as gifts to those of his followers who harbour paedophilic tendencies.'

The children were the breaking point for Harry. He was sure he could feel his heart breaking as he burst into horrified tears and sank to the floor, curling in on himself and hiding his face in his knees. Even through his anguished sobs, he heard Snape continue solemnly.

'Half-bloods are much worse in the dark lord's opinion than muggles and muggleborns. They are an abomination, dirty. They will be exterminated immediately, any full-blooded wizards who fought against his along with them, but only after being forced to watch as their families are tortured to death before them...'

'Stop,' Harry whispered hoarsely, 'please stop.' He lifted his head from his knees and peered through his long fringe at his professor sadly. 'I can't do this. I won't be able to, you know it as well as me, you both do!' He glared at Malfoy, suddenly remembering he was there. 'You've always known! Neither of you have ever treated me like the Boy-Who-Lived! You both know I'm not him!' He looked back at snape, his eyes begging him to agree ' You _know_.' He whispered.

Snape sighed and leaned forward, pouring himself another cup of tea.

'Of course I know Mr Potter. At the present time, I would have to agree with you, you are in no state to battle with the dark lord. If you go up against him now, yes, you will fail and yes, the world will suffer for it.'

Harry closed his eyes, fresh tears wetting his face. Snape leaned toward him, his head tilted to the side slightly.

'But you will train. You will _learn_ to fight, you _will_ Learn to survive,' he told the devastated student, his voice uncharacteristically soft, yet firm at the same time, 'you will have many teachers, each one the best at what he or she does, and I will be there too, helping you cope, teaching you when the others are unavailable. We will persevere until you are ready to face him, and when you do, Mr Potter, you will stand tall and look him dead in the eye, for whether you win or lose, the point will be that you fought.'

Harry stared at Snape. Snape stared back.

'Why the bloody hell are you being so nice to him?' Malfoy's voice broke the moment, 'I thought you hated him?'

'Mr Malfoy, We have an unknown amount of time to turn Mr Potter into a warrior whose skill and power will equal and hopefully surpass the Dark Lord, and we will all have to work together to do it, despite any previous issues we have with each other. We are at war. It is time for us all to desist with our juvenile grudges.'

Harry and Malfoy both goggled at their professor. Malfoy shook himself out of it and looked at Snape curiously.

'What do you mean, we? What do I have to do with any of this?,' He tossed his platinum hair and sneered at Harry, 'there's no prophecy floating round about me having to join the fight!'

'Actually, there is,' Snape smirked, pulling another bottle of memories from his robes, 'if you would, gentlemen?' He indicated they should enter the pensieve and they each reached a hand inside, gasping as they were pulled into the memory.

They landed in a small circular stone chamber filled with an assortment of gadgets, contraptions and books, that reminded Harry strongly of Professor Dumbledore's office. There was a large window opposite, looking out at a beautiful view of the night sky, the stars clear and bright. Pushed up under the window was a large desk and on top of it amidst piles of parchment with runes and symbols scratched upon them, was an enormous brass telescope glinting in the moonlight. Scrunched up papers littered the floor, surrounded by a blanket of fluffy chestnut feathers, obviously belonging to the tawny falcon who was perched on a scruffy green antique chair in the corner, happily crunching on what Harry assumed had been some kind of rodent.

Harry walked around the room, following the curve of the masonry as he trailed his hand along the bookcases that covered the entire wall. They were coated with dust and Harry suspected that if this where not just a memory, his fingers would come away black with dirt. The shelves by the window held the gizmos that reminded Harry so much of the grandfatherly Headmaster, but he couldn't care less as he was currently enamoured with the cases in front of him, that were filled to bursting with books of every genre and description.

Since Harry had taught himself to read at a young age, he had adored the written word. Fairytales, comics, reference books - whatever he could steal from underneath his relatives' noses, he would sneak into his cupboard, wrapping them lovingly in his tattered threadbare fleece baby blanket and hiding them out of site in the underside of the steps above his head. He would listen anxiously as his so called family pottered around before bed and after the sounds had died down, he would wait half an hour before slowly pushing open the door and creeping silently into the living room. He would settle himself in the big squishy armchair by the window and read whatever treasure he'd picked up earlier by the glow of the streetlights outside. He would tiptoe out early the next morning and put the finished book back where he had found it. It always gave him a thrill when he got away with it, knowing he was getting one over on his horrible family for once. Even so, when he had started primary school, he had been delighted to discover the large library inside.

He'd quickly made a friend in the librarian, a pleasant lady who'd kindly allowed him to call her Sally. He's liked Sally tremendously. She'd had a soft voice and laughter lines on her face and her auburn hair was always tied prettily at the nape of her neck with a green ribbon. He had felt utter joy at being able to read books in the library at break times without having to worry about being caught and punished, although he would often keep an ear open out of habit, listening for the opening of a door or the creak of a stair. often he would jump and shove the book he was reading behind him whenever a noise startled him and he was sure the Sally had thought him more than a little odd.

Partly as a result of his love of reading, he had been a very smart little boy, but the glowing reports from his teacher were not received well at home. Dudley, his big bully of a cousin had been and was still unarguably a dunce. His Aunt and Uncle, being just as stupid and mean as their son had not been able to stand the thought of their runt of a nephew being brighter that their 'Duddikins' and had punished him for every good mark. He had learnt very quickly to hide his intelligence, much to the dismay of Sally and his school teacher Ms Roberts. His fear of doing well had followed him into Hogwarts and although he often felt like obsessing with Hermione over books, he'd held himself back. None of his friends or professors had any idea of his hunger for knowledge, and he shook his head sadly as he felt Snape's calculating stare on his back as he perused the room's stock.

The titles in the huge collection varied greatly from "_Celestial Conversations: Talking to the Stars by Opium Twinkle" _to "_Peter Pan and Wendy by J. M. Barrie."_

He smiled softly and stroked the cover lightly. It was one of his favourite stories. He turned to walk back to Snape and Malfoy and nearly tripped over a pile of books on the floor that almost went past his hip. The room was a mess, a small universe of dust, clutter and chaos. Harry loved it.

'SEVERUS!'

Harry jumped a foot in the air as the screech came through the heavy door just before it was flung wide by a short plump woman wearing jeans and a baggy black t-shirt with a dragon on it. Her short curly blond hair was wild and although most of it was held back from her face by the square black-rimmed glasses perched on the top of her head, a few rogue tendrils had escaped and were sticking out around her forehead, touching he flushed cheeks softly.

Harry stepped back to snape, who was rolling his eyes at the woman and Malfoy, who was clutching his chest having obviously been as startled as Harry.

'Severus! You'd better get up here right now, or so help me, I'll shove your wand so far up your arse you'll be shitting stars for a month! Severus!'

'Do stop yelling Aideen,' Harry started and turned to see the memory version of Professor Snape emerging from behind one of the bookcases, which had obviously been hiding a secret entrance, 'what could possibly be so important that it warrants you waking the dead with your ungodly screeching?'

'Oh bugger off Sevvie, you know you love me. Look!' She said, waving a piece of parchment in front of his face before he could answer back, 'I've done it! I've finally bloody done it!'

'Done what, you insufferable Harpy?' Harry chuckled behind a hand as memory Snape leaned away from her and snatched the parchment out of her hand, 'What _is_ this rubbish, it doesn't make any sense.'

'It's Astrology, Sev, it never has, never will. Not to you anyway, you thick   
sod.'

'Aideen...'

'Sevvie...shut the hell up and listen! I've deciphered the prophecy! Er...sort of.'

'Sort of?'

'Well...you know prophecies are rather ambiguous at the best of times,  
Sev. They never make any sense. Now, look...'

'Deena, the whole bloody point of deciphering the thing is so that it _does_  
make sense! We're approaching the final battle and as things are the boy has  
no chance whatsoever of defeating his enemies! We _need _that prophecy!'

'Severus. Sweetheart. I have the frigging prophecy, ok? Chill out.' She turned away from him to rummage through the papers on her desk and memory Snape bared his teeth at her and made a strangling gesture, sending Harry and Malfoy into sniggers as the real Snape glared. Aideena turned to face memory Snape again, the look she gave him expressing clearly that she knew very well what he had been doing behind her back. She smirked slightly and returned to searching through her desk.

'You know, Sev, one of these days, you're going to have to admit how much you adore me. I can just see it now, you, down on one knee, professing your undying love for me, and then the both of us, jumping on a broomstick together and flying off into the sunset.'

'That's not the sunset you're seeing, Dee, it's the fires of Hell.' His lips curved into a small smile as Aideen laughed loudly.

'Yeah, bugger it. Shite, one of these days you'll actually throttle me instead of just pretending to.' She scowled suddenly, putting her hands on her hips and looking around the room,

'Where the heck are my glasses!?'

'Dee...'

'I know I had them twenty minutes ago...'

'Dee...' memory Snape tried again, pinching the bridge of his nose. The two teenagers in the room were by this point in hysterics while the real professor shot dirty looks at them.

'Hang on Sev! Can't you see I'm busy? Don't just stand there, help my find my specs!'

Snape rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand, conjuring a mirror in midair. He spun Aideen round to face it and stood behind her, smirking at their reflections as she finally clicked and yanked the glasses off her head, wincing when a few strands of hair were pulled out along with them.

'You could've just told me, Smart Arse.' She grumbled, settling the glasses onto her round nose. Snape just smirked at her.

'The prophecy, Dee.' He prodded

'Ah yes! The prophecy! Now, let me see,' She said, conjuring a tea set and pouring out two cups. She handed Snape his cup and grabbed the parchment again, holding close to her face as she mumbled, 'Why the fuck the old sod insisted on writing it in code is beyond me...ok, here it is...…

_When the world of wizards is threatened by one with the serpent's tongue…a child born of the light will be marked by the dark…punished unjustly by his blood…the boy raised by the fist will be marked by fear…in his eleventh year, the boy will meet his saviour…hate will turn to friendship and the boy will be protected by one with white hair, given by the father…the white haired one will follow the boy into battle and stand by his side as he fights the dark one…the boy will leave his baneful past behind and as a man, will step into his future…the man saved by friendship will be marked by love...'_

'When the world of wizards is threatened by one with the serpent's tongue...' Snape repeated to himself.

'Meaning Lord Voldemort,' Dee interrupted, pushing her glasses up her nose.

'Oh, very good Aideena,' Snape sneered, 'I don't think I could have possibly worked that one out for myself. Shut up and let me finish you silly cow…When the world of Wizards is threatened by one with the serpent's tongue, a child born of the light will be marked by the dark...Yes, Dee, stop bouncing in your seat, I'm well aware the child is Harry Potter. Where was I? Oh...punished unjustly by his blood, the boy raised by the fist will be marked by fear...

'The boy was abused?'

Harry lowered his eyes to the floor, trying to ignore the weight of the real Snape's eyes on his back.Marked by fear…..he was marked alright. He tugged at the bottom of his shirt self-consciously, thinking about what the pressed white material hid underneath.

'Maybe,' memory Snape admitted reluctantly, 'he certainly has some of the signs. I'll look into it. In his eleventh year...One with white hair...given by the father... Draco?'

'Malfoy?'

'Yes, he has extremely pale blond hair that looks white, the same as Lucius. And ..hate will turn to friendship…those two have hated each other since they met.'

'Well that's that then isn't it?' Dee sat back in her seat and raised her eyebrows at her old friend, 'He'll need to be trained, they both will. But with a father like lucius Malfoy...how can we be sure the lad will turn to the light?'

'He will, Dee. He may be a little bastard sometimes, but he's not evil. He'll pick the right side.

OooooooooooO

When they had exited the pensieve, Malfoy had been furious . He'd raved and ranted for at least an hour, until finally running out of steam and dropping onto a beanbag to sulk. Snape had then calmly informed them that they would both be joining him in the room of requirement four nights a week for special training, whether they liked it or not.

The lessons they had been forced to endure before school broke up for the Summer, were thankfully very tame. Snape had started them off with meditating to help them empty their minds for Occlumency. It had probably taken longer than it would have usually for them to come to their medative states, due to the overwhelming scents from the many incense sticks lit about the room and the extremely irritating dolphin sounds echoing off the walls. Harry thought he would've enjoyed the sounds in any other situation, but when trying to meditate, every time the therapeutic clicking sounds would help him into a trance-like state, all of a sudden a series of high pitched whistles would jerk him out of it. After watching both malfoy and snape react to the noises the same as he, he tentively suggested they do away with the music and meditate in silence. The professor had readily agreed and the incense sticks had gone the same way. Harry had wondered idly at the time where Snape had come up with all this stuff, and he resolved now to ask him when he returned to school in September.

Harry had been instructed to continue with his meditation during the break, but had disobeyed, knowing he needed to be constantly aware of his surroundings whilst in the Dursley household. He looked out his window again and sighed heavily. The rain had stopped some time ago, and some of the children that lived nearby had trickled onto the street to play. Harry glared at them as they splashed through puddles in their plastic raincoats and Wellies, laughing and smiling at each other. He had never had that. His family had worked him from early childhood. No games or laughter for Harry.

When he'd left for Hogwarts and made friends, he had finally known what it was to have fun, but it had never been like it was for the kids he watched now. It was always in the back of his mind that he had to go back to the Dursleys' at the end of the school year. That always put a dampener on his fun. But he had always managed to get through by telling himself, year after year, that soon he would be an adult. Soon he would leave the Dursleys'. He would fantasise about a life where Voldemort had been caught and imprisoned, leaving harry to a wonderful existence where no-one threatened his life on a yearly basis. He would finally be able to live. Harry knew now it would never happen. He now knew he was expected to murder someone, that, and the realisation that he would never be the same after such an act, pressed heavily on his chest until half the time he felt as if he were being crushed and he could hardly breathe. What kind of life could he have after doing something like that?

He just wanted to live a little. He wanted to experience a bit of the life he could have had before his life was taken out of his hands. He needed to be free, if only for a little while - was that so wrong?

Frowning at the frolicking children, he nodded and made his decision. He jumped up, grabbed Dudley's tattered old gym bag from under the bed and threw a few things in, a grin growing on his face. He would leave. Not for good, he wasn't heartless - if he was the only one who could save the wizarding world from Voldemort, he wouldn't abandon them to him - but just for the summer. He was determined, he would spend his summer experiencing the lighter side of life, then he would return in September and fight for the lives of his friends.

END CHAPTER

A/N - Some things will be explained later in the story, such as why Snape had the Room of Requirement decked out the way he did, what the talking aquarium thing was all about, who Aideena is and why Snape allowed the whole memory to be seen instead of just repeating the prophecy.


	3. 2 Friends

A/N - I loathe editing these chapters to fit the rating. Seriously, if you're old enough, please go to my Live Journal to read this….the link is on my profile page.

A/N 2 - Just a few things I forgot to mention last chapter (although it's probably obvious):

- This fic is AU, neither OoTP nor THBP happened (although some things from the books might make an appearance) and Sirius is alive and well.

- The info about Orcas from the last chapter was borrowed from Wikipedia.

**Field of Innocence**

**Chapter two - 'Friends'.**

Harry hated the bloody Knight Bus. Travelling at breakneck speed with beds and chamber pots flying at him was not his idea of fun and when the giant purple vehicle dropped him off behind the Lime Street train station in Liverpool, he jumped off with a huge sigh of relief and went to the nearest café for something to calm his rolling stomach.

He ordered a sandwich and a cup of tea, paid with some of the muggle money he'd exchanged on his last trip to Diagon Alley and took a table in the back away from the smoker's area. As he ate, he listened to the mixture of voices and accents around him with interest. There was a Japanese couple in front of him carrying huge backpacks, wearing woolly beanies and arguing over a map. He smiled slightly, amused.

After finishing his meal, he left the café and made his way into the train station, weaving through the commuters until he got to the telephone booths. He dug the number from his pocket along with some change, and picked up the receiver, praying there would be an answer.

OooooooooooO

'So who did you say we're meeting again?'

Seamus glanced sideways at his boyfriend and grinned.

'I didn't.' He chuckled. Alan had been trying to trick him into dropping the mystery person's name since they'd gotten into the car and the Irish boy was endlessly amused by it. He laughed as his boyfriend faked a pout.

'Why won't you tell me?' He whined playfully, 'Is it an ex-boyfriend? Or……fuck! It's an ex-girlfriend isn't it!? You're BI!?! I knew it! I knew it all along, you're way too greedy to settle for one sex…..'

Seamus laughed and faked a look of outrage as he thumped the older man on the arm.

'Why won't you tell me?' Alan repeated.

'Well,' Seamus sighed, deciding to give in, 'he's sort of ……well known. I don't want you to freak out.'

'Oh, go on, tell me! I won't freak, I promise.' He tried to give Seamus his best puppy dog look while still watching the road.

'Okay, I'll tell you, but with two conditions.'

'Really? Yes! Okay, what conditions?'

'First…….you can't be all star struck around him or treat him like a celebrity, he hates that. And second,' Seamus tried to keep a straight face as he stared at his boyfriend who seemed to be unaware that he was still sporting the puppy dog look, 'you have to promise never to make the puppy dog face ever again. You look like a daft twat.'

He laughed loudly as the older man started tickling his thighs with his free hand.

'Ha ha….Stop it! Stop it!' He gasped, his eyes watering as he giggled, 'Alan, ple…hee…hee…ease!'

'Say you're sorry!' he said, tickling harder.

'I'm…..I'm sorry! Ha ha….I'm sorry!'

'Now say you love me!'

'Oh my God, I love you! I…..hee hee….I LOVE YOU!'

'Good boy,' Alan praised, giggling uncontrollably himself, 'Now tell me who we're meeting!'

'Ha…..Ha…..hee…hee…Ha….'

'Tell me!'

'Ha….Harry Potter! MERLIN, WATCH THE BLOODY ROAD!'

Alan swerved quickly to avoid the Mini they'd almost crashed into and quickly got back into the correct lane. Seamus gripped the dashboard, breathing heavily as he tried to calm his racing heart. He looked over at Alan, who seemed to be doing the same thing with the steering wheel.

'Fuck,' he swore, glaring at his boyfriend, 'how are you going to not act star struck around him when the mere mention of his name causes you to nearly kill us!?'

'I'M SORRY, ALRIGHT! Shit, Seamus, you can't just mention that I'm about to meet the Boy-who-bloody-lived and expect me not to react!'

'Well, you asked! Besides, almost crashing the car is a bit of an _over_-reaction, don't you think?'

'Fuck, I said I'm sorry, what more do you want me to…' he trailed off and stared open mouthed as the Mini they'd almost collided with overtook them and the tiny old lady driving it gave them the finger. As the other car sped off into the distance, the lovers looked at each other and burst out laughing, the tenseness between them dissolving.

'I really am sorry, you know,' Alan said, reaching over to hold his boyfriend's hand, 'are you okay?'

Seamus nodded, smiling as Alan rubbed his hand with his thumb. Glad the argument was over, he

turned slightly in his seat and leaned his head against the headrest, watching the older man as he pulled his full attention back to the road. He looked down at their joined hands and sighed happily. He couldn't believe how fast he was falling in love.

They'd only met each other the Christmas before at a club called Hu Tianbo. Tall and black with spiked hair, black-rimmed eyes and piercings, Alan had certainly stood out among the club crowd. He had a cute and friendly smile, the kind of smile that can charm the pants off a person. It had worked on Seamus immediately and he'd lost his virginity that night in the club toilets, bracing himself against the wall with 'Terry lvz Mark' under his left hand and 'Gary 4 Jon' under his right.

He knew that Alan still felt guilty for his first time being in a grubby bathroom. Seamus looked older than he was and Alan often said that if he'd known Seamus was only fifteen and a virgin he would have been a little more gentle and tried to make it a bit more special for him. But although the rough sex had been painful, it had turned Seamus on tremendously. They often made love slowly and tenderly, but as a result of that first night, there were times when tender just wouldn't do for him and he needed it hard and fast.

Seamus jumped suddenly he felt a hand pressing on his crotch. He gasped in surprise, he hadn't realised he was so turned on. After a moment he rolled his eyes and quickly put his hand over Alan's, stopping the motion.

'Not that I wouldn't love that right now, love,' he said, struggling to tuck himself back in, 'but I'd rather not meet Harry with my jeans covered in my own spunk.'

'How 'bout mine then?' Alan joked, wiggling his eyebrows as Seamus laughed and swatted him lightly on the shoulder.

'Where did you go anyway?' He asked, grinning as he rubbed his arm.

'Go?' Seamus asked as he tried to will his arousal down, all the while knowing it was impossible and thanks to his lover he'd be walking bow-legged all day.

'Yeah, must have been somewhere nice to give you that kind of reaction,' Alan teased playfully, 'you weren't thinking about our young Mr Potter were you? Those rumours about him are true aren't they? You shower with him in school, you must know! That's what you were thinking about wasn't it, Potter's nine-inch knob!'

Seamus blushed and shook his head at his boyfriend's teasing, a coy smile playing on his lips.

'No, I was thinking about that first night,' he said quietly, watching the older man carefully, 'in the club?'

Alan stopped smiling suddenly and shifted slightly in his seat, his face going as red as Seamus' had seconds before. Seamus licked his lips, his eyes locked onto the growing bulge in the front of Alan's black combat trousers. He sat back and smirked, satisfied that he'd managed to get revenge on his fella for giving him his persistent erection by giving him one of his own to put up with.

OooooooooooO

Harry sat on the steps of a large raised stone circle that sat in the middle of the High Street, eating from the bag of sugary doughnuts he'd bought from the stand across the way and flicking idly through the Big Issue magazine he'd bought from the homeless girl on the corner.

He pushed his glasses up his nose and rummaged in the paper bag for another doughnut. As he brought one out and raised it to his mouth, he was startled suddenly as a large pigeon swooped down and snatched a piece from his hand. He watched bemused as the bird landed in front of him to eat its prize and he failed to notice another creeping up behind him to peck at the rest of the doughnut in his hand. He felt the movement and turned to look as another pigeon landed on his thigh and stuck its head in the bag.

'Hey!' He raised the bag quickly and the bird left his leg and flew onto his wrist, its wings outstretched as it balanced, trying to get at the doughnuts.

Pretty soon Harry was surrounded by a large cooing flock. He had pigeons on his arms and legs and one balanced on each hand and a few beside and behind him, waiting in hope for some stray crumbs to fall.

_Shit_, he though ruefully, _could I possibly draw any more attention to myself?_ He frowned at the shoppers walking by who were chuckling at the sight of him and threw the bag of doughnuts on the floor, sighing in relief as the flock left him and descended on the snacks.

He brushed off his clothes and checked for bird mess. Thankfully there wasn't any, he didn't think he could take any more humiliation.

'Too bad you're not into _birds_, eh Harry?'

He spun around quickly and blushed, realising Seamus and his boyfriend had seen the whole bloody thing.

'Ha ha, very funny,' he grinned walking over and giving his Seamus a hug, 'Looking good, Mate.'

'You too, how've you been?' He replied giving his friend a pat on the back.

'Don't ask.' Harry shook his head and took in the man standing close to his schoolmate. _Fuck, he's gorgeous! _He thought.

'Harry, this is my boyfriend, Alan.' Seamus introduced him looking proud.

'Um….y…..yeah…..Alan,' the man stuttered, 'n….nice to meet you.'

Seamus didn't look proud anymore. He looked mortified.

Harry cringed. He knew exactly why Alan was nervous and he hated it. He would never understand how complete strangers could fawn over him for, like, _not dying_. It wasn't as if he'd even destroyed Voldemort, the bastard was back now and worse than ever. _You'd think I'd be loathed for giving everyone a false sense of security for over a decade_, he thought bitterly with a wince as he shook Alan's trembling hand, which, he noticed, was awfully moist. _Eugh_.

He took his hand back and laughed nervously as Seamus elbowed his boyfriend in the side.

'Ow! What!?'

'_Will you chill out_!' The Irish lad hissed.

Harry scratched his head and looked away in embarrassment. He glanced around at the hustle and bustle surrounding them, wondering what he could do to lighten the mood. His eyes landed on an ice cream truck nearby surrounded by excited children and hassled parents, and he had an idea.

'Hey guys,' he called, interrupting their argument, 'fancy an ice cream?'

The couple stared at him for a minute and then they both nodded eagerly, obviously remembering it was the middle of summer and they were both sweating in the hot sun. Harry smiled, relieved they'd put aside their quarrel for the rime being. He ran to the ice cream van and returned five minutes later with three 'Mr Whippy's ', each with a Cadbury's Flake buried in the ice cream. His companions thanked him and gratefully took the cones, both digging in and eating the treats happily.

Harry was about to consume his own when he noticed his hands were sticky from the ice creams melting as he'd returned from buying them. He grimaced and lifted his first one hand then the other to his mouth, lapping at the strawberry sauce and humming quietly as the tangy taste tickled his taste buds. He thoroughly cleaned between his fingers and then sucked lightly on his wrist where he'd missed a spot.

Happy his hands were clean, he started in on his ice cream and took a dainty lick before digging out the Flake and sucking the delicious cream off of it. After chewing and swallowing it, he licked his lips and sighed contentedly, savouring the chocolate flavour on his tongue. After a moment, he started to slurp at the ice cream, taking a pause from his licking every now and again to catch any drips on his tongue. When he got to the point where he couldn't reach the rest of the ice cream, he bit the bottom off the cone and sucked the rest out, throwing the cone in the rubbish bin when he was done. Harry never had any treats as a child, now when he got anything good, he certainly knew how to enjoy it.

He sucked his fingers clean and then wiped his hands on his jeans. He looked up to find Seamus and Alan staring at him with glazed eyes, their ice creams melting away untouched.

He frowned at them.

'What?'

OooooooooooO

Quiggins was a community of shops housed in an old building that was hidden behind the more popular stores that littered the Liverpool High Street. It was an interesting and unusual place, full of colour and individuality. Seamus had watched Harry as he and Alan had pulled him up the stairs, past the walls that were plastered with posters advertising live shows and bands, and through the first doors, enjoying the way the bespectacled boy's smile had widened the further into the building they had ventured.

Seamus loved this place. Alan had introduced him to it a few days after they had first met, and Seamus had become enraptured with the atmosphere there. The people who shopped there where a colourful mix, goths or hippies, gay or straight, black, white, yellow or red, it didn't matter, everyone was welcome and you could feel it the minute you walked in.

He and Alan had spent an hour wandering around with Harry as he took in everything there was to see. They had passed a tarot stall where Harry had shot a glance at Seamus, obviously wondering the same as he had when he had first seen it - was she for real? In their experience, you never knew where a real witch or wizard could turn up.

They'd stopped at the glass enclosure displaying rows of silver jewellery from glow in the dark belly button bars to tongue studs with smiley faces on them. Harry had looked at the display for a long time and Seamus suspected they may be headed for a piercing studio later.

There was a hairdressers, a craft shop, shops selling second-hand clothing, shops selling skate-boards and Dr. Martins. There was a store selling collectables where Harry had sidetracked by Laurel and Hardy clock, and a shop on the second floor that was lit by black lights and sold spiked collars, Pucca bags and contact lenses that shone in the shop's lighting or had different effects such as cat's eyes or a black and white spiral design.

There was a store there that sold snacks and drinks and Harry had gone in there to buy a Coke. After five minutes he still hadn't returned. Seamus and Alan found him staring with a crimson face at the display cabinet that held an array sex toys of all shapes and sizes. They had laughed and dragged him out past the cabinet and the rows of rainbow coloured glass and ceramic bongs.

From there they had gone into the restaurant and bar that connected two halves of the building and Alan had ordered a beer for Harry to calm him down. After waiting for his cheeks to go back to their normal colour they'd made their way to a clothes store on the first floor of the building that sold unusual clothing. They were taking Harry out on the town that night and he needed something better than the baggy rags he was dressed in.

Unfortunately, the kid who worked there, a young girl with black rimmed eyes, purple pigtails and a lip ring, heard Alan and Seamus talking about giving Harry a makeover and decided they needed her help.

'You gay mate?' She'd asked Harry in her scouse accent having spied Alan stroking Seamus' arse once or twice. Harry had nodded shyly and found himself being shoved in a cubical, his arms loaded with clothes, leaving Alan and Seamus to cool their heels outside.

The first outfit he'd tries on did not go down well.

'Seamus, I'm not wearing this!'

Seamus shook his head and turned away from the posters he was browsing to talk through the changing room curtain to Harry.

'What's wrong with it?'

'I look stupid!'

Seamus rolled his eyes and yanked open the curtain to see for himself. He took in Harry, standing there with a scowl on his boyish face, his hair even messier then usual from pulling his top over his head. He was wearing a pair of tight black sparkly leather trousers that seemed to grip his crotch dangerously and stretched over his slim but slightly muscled chest was a navy blue t-shirt with 'SORRY GIRLS, I LIKE BOYS' written across it in sparkly gold letters.

As Seamus covered his mouth and tried unsuccessfully to hide his laughing, he heard a loud guffaw from Alan and reached behind him to swat at his boyfriend.

'Gee, I'm so glad you got over your shyness,' Harry snapped, glaring at Alan, who only laughed harder.

'Alan, shut the hell up!' Seamus giggled as he joined Harry in the cubicle and pulled the curtain shut. He crouched down to the heap of garments on the floor and began to sort through them, discarding a pair of neon green pvc pants with zips down the sides and among others, a top that read 'YOUR BOYFRIEND SWALLOWS' and one reading 'I SEE GAY PEOPLE'.

He rolled his eyes again at the choice the girl had picked out. Sometimes straights were so predictable. He looked up at Harry and grimaced at the expression on his friend's face. He thought about going out and finding something for Harry himself, but the shop only sold alternative clothing and judging by the look on Harry's face it wasn't what they were looking for.

Seamus was actually really disappointed as loved the goth look and thought Harry would look hot. Although he preferred to wear plain jeans and t-shirts himself, there was nothing more sexy for him than watching Alan applying eyeliner in front of a mirror. And when he slipped on a leather dog collar afterwards…….whew! Alan knew not to wear a collar when they were in a rush to go somewhere, because the minute Seamus saw his boyfriend fastening that buckle, they wouldn't leave the flat for another hour at least.

He threw the last of the clothes down sighed. They'd have to go somewhere else.

OooooooooooO

Six hours, fifteen shops, three opticians and a visit to the hairdresser later, they finally returned to the flat, loaded down with bags. Seamus and Alan had tried to get Harry to switch to contact lenses and get a sexy new hairdo, but Harry was a stubborn bastard. He'd refused the contacts, saying he'd feel naked without his glasses. He'd vetoed having his hair cut short because - and though Seamus loved his friend, he would never understand this - he liked it the way it was. They'd managed eventually to persuade him to swap the old, black, thick-rimmed glasses for a pair of smaller silver ones that suited his face perfectly and made him look less like a geek from the seventies and more like a modern intellectual. They'd compromised on the hair, deciding on no loss of length, but a change of style at least to calm the messiness. The hairdresser they'd gone to just hadn't been able to get Harry's hair to lay flat, so instead the guy managed to give him a fashionably messy style he had called the 'just fucked' look. Harry hadn't stopped blushing for an hour.

Seamus flopped down onto the shabby orange sofa-bed that graced the sitting room and closed his eyes, toeing his trainers off his aching feet with a sigh of relief and kicking them across the room. He didn't think he had ever been on his feet for so long in his life. He heard Alan go into the tiny kitchen and fill the kettle, and opened his eyes, searching out the lad responsible for his discomfort.

Harry was crouched in the doorway to the living room and going through the bags at his feet. Seamus smirked slightly. He knew Harry was only rummaging through his buys to distract from the fact he was uncomfortable in this new place and didn't know what else to do with himself. Harry had always been a shy one. Seamus still remembered the skinny waif who he met back when they were eleven and how the poor kid had been very skittish and quiet those first few months. The Gryffindors were a rowdy bunch though, and they soon built up his confidence.

Seamus watched Harry now, noticing for the first time how thin he was compared to the kid he'd waved goodbye to at the train station a month ago. His eyes were darker too, their usual unique emerald now dimmed to a dull mossy sort of colour. Seamus scowled realising that as bad as Harry looked, it was nothing compared to how the boy usually looked when they returned to school after the holidays. He always came back in September seeming like a smaller and quieter version of himself.

There were rumours in the school that Harry's relatives neglected and abused him, starved him and made him sleep in a cupboard. Seamus had always thought it all highly unlikely, He just thought maybe Harry's aunt and uncle were a little over strict with him and they didn't get along with their nephew.

Seamus had known for a while now that it was much more than that. He'd only heard Harry talking about his relatives once, the night Seamus was outed to his friends and they were all pissed on Fire-whisky. It had been quite enough to get the wheels turning in his head……

It was their last night in Hogwarts before the summer holidays and a group of Gryffindor students were sat in a circle on the fifth year boys dormitory floor playing a drunken game of truth or dare with Fire Whisky spiked with Veritaserum that the twins had somehow gotten hold of.

A few secrets had already been divulged to the group, such as Neville's red-faced admission that when he was younger he'd once put Trevor the Toad down the front of his trousers to see what it felt like and been aroused from the sensations of his slimy pet wriggling. The reaction of the group to that little titbit was varied. Seamus, Dean, Lee, Ron and the twins had all burst into hysterical giggles at their friend's expense. Parvarti and Lavender had glared at Neville with disgust. Alicia and Katie had blushed but smiled at their young friend with sympathy while Harry tentively patted the poor boy's back.

Neville, embarrassed by his forced confession, had looked about ready to run from the room crying until Hermione had unintentionally broken the ice by declaring loudly and slurring quite severely that she was going to report Neville for animal abuse. Amidst the renewed hysterics of the friends, Seamus had heard her mumbling something about using amphibians for masturbatory purposes and how cruelty to animals must run in the family because Neville's grandmother had cut the head off a vulture to decorate her handbag.

A few dares had been carried out also. Hermione had been forced to stand on her head and sing the Hogwarts school song for ten minutes. However, in her extremely drunken state, she had forgotten half the words and the closest she could get to standing on her head was lying on the bed with her head hanging over the side, where she was now still lying having dozed off in the middle of the third verse.

'Okay, okay! Everybody quiet!' Fred yelled over the group's loud chattering, 'Seamus…..'

Seamus winced and looked over at Fred.

'Truth or dare?'

He hesitated and glanced at Hermione, still away with the fairies on the bed. He groaned and asked, with a voice that betrayed every bad feeling he had about the whole thing, for a truth. Fred grinned at his twin, and all of a sudden, you knew what the little bastard was going to ask.

'Seamus Finnegan, have you ever had sex with another boy?'

Immediately, there were amused titters throughout the males of the group, while the girls rolled their eyes predictably. Seamus glared at the twins, furious at them for doing this to him. He'd confessed to them just after Christmas about his boyfriend back in Liverpool that he'd met during the holidays. He'd been bursting to talk to someone about his sexuality and his first venture into the gay 'world'. He'd eventually felt comfortable confiding in Fred and George after walking in on one of the twins sucking Lee Jordan off in the school showers one late night while the other enthusiastically fucked the happily sandwiched boy from behind. The two in typical Weasley twin style had made a big production of welcoming him onto 'the team' and had gleefully drawn out of him every last detail of his time with Alan.

Being the good friends that they were (or he had thought they were) they had listened to him worry himself stupid about coming out to his friends, and since then had bugged him constantly to just take the leap. It hadn't escaped his notice of course that the twins and Lee were all still happily shagging away in the metaphorical closet, and after pointing this out to them, he was informed that the guys had never officially declared themselves gay, but they certainly never hid the fact and they wouldn't be bothered if anyone found out. Seamus thought they were full of crap.

As he sat there in the circle, he was aware that the others were looking back and forth between him and his so-called friends and laughing nervously as he fumed at them. He could feel his answer to the un-wanted question bubbling up inside him and clamped his mouth shut, desperate to stop the bloody veritaserum from doing Its job. Why the hell had he asked for truth!?

In the split-second before the condemning word escaped his dry lips, his eyes shifted from the twins to Harry. Unlike the others, who were watching Seamus with amusement, Harry was looking at him with an almost hopeful expression on his still-boyish face.

And then it happened.

'Y….yes!' He affirmed out to those gathered, the combination of the truth-potion and his inner battle against it causing him to almost shout the answer.

Everything went quiet. He glared at the twins and knew that before this was over, the twats were going be dealing with a matching pair of black eyes. Seamus might have been slightly smaller than them, but size was nothing compared to an Irish-man's temper. He felt his face grow hot and his heart rate accelerate. His first instinct was to run. He wanted to escape from this, he didn't want to do this now. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry. He wanted to sink into the floor, he wanted to jump out the bloody window, but most of all, he wanted to smash his fist into Fred's freckled face.

He looked around at his friends to gauge their reactions. Lee was looking at him sympathetically, he mustn't have known what the twins had been planning. It was obvious Katy and Alicia were happy, they were both smiling at him proudly for coming out - as if he'd had any fucking choice in the matter. He wasn't sure what Dean was thinking. He was staring at Seamus with his mouth hanging open, his eyes bulging. Parvati was excited, probably because she had gossip to spread, and Lavender was nodding her head slowly with a wise look on her face like she'd known all along. Like hell she had. Neville couldn't even look at Seamus, he was staring at the floor, frowning with his arms crossed. He shifted uncomfortably as if he could feel Seamus' gaze on him.

'You're queer?'

Seamus looked to his left. Ron was staring at him with utter disbelief and shaking his head slightly.

'Yes.' Seamus answered again, the Veritaserum still working.

'But……but you can't be! You can't be a queer, you shower with us!' Ron continued, his expression quickly changing from disbelief to fury, 'I can't have been sharing a room with a dirty fag all this time, that's disgusting! I bet you've been watching us all when we're undressed haven't you, you perv!'

One of the twins snickered suddenly, catching Ron's attention.

'What are you laughing at George, you great git, you think this is funny!?' Ron's voice had risen and George was no longer laughing, he was looking at his little brother with a mostly calm expression, laced with disappointment and a little anger.

'Yes, Ron I think it's funny,' George replied, his eyes narrowing as he spoke, ' I think it's bloody hilarious that my baby brother is being a complete arse to someone who's been his friend for five years and basically making him feel like shite when what he really needs is support and friendship. Yes, I think the devastated look on Seamus' face is absolutely hysterical, don't you Fred?'

'Ha ha.' Fred said quietly, his face as angry as his twin's. Seamus listened silently to the argument and put his head in his hands, feeling worse by the second.

'You can't honestly tell me you're not bothered by this, Fred,' he heard Ron say from his side, 'he's been lying to all of us for years! He's probably been touching himself when we were all showering, or feeling himself up when we've been getting changed in front of him! Shit, we've been sleeping next to a pervert all this time, he could've molested us in our sleep!'

Seamus looked up at Ron in disgust, knowing from the tone of the red-head's voice that he didn't really believe what he was saying, he was just being spiteful. Seamus couldn't believe that this boy he'd been friends with for half a decade was saying these things. He'd known that some of his friend's wouldn't just accept the fact that he was gay with a smile and a pat on the shoulder, but Ron's extreme reaction was completely unexpected.

'Oh shut up Ron,' Dean interrupted, 'just because Seamus is gay doesn't mean he wants your ugly arse!'

Seamus dived out of the way quickly as Ron suddenly leapt at Dean. Ron sat astride the other boy, punching his sides and almost spitting with fury.

'Why are you defending him?' He yelled, dodging a blow from Dean, 'you a faggot too, Dean? You're a great big fudge-packer, just like him!'

Seamus sat back against one of the beds, too shocked to do anything. He couldn't get over it, the fact that one word had started all this. He watched silently as the girls all shrieked and jumped out of the way as the other boys in the group ran to stop the fight. As they all tried unsuccessfully to pull Ron off of the other lad, the two boys fell into Neville's bedside table, knocking the lap off. The crash woke up Hermione, who jumped off the bed in fright, her sleepy eyes widening as they took in the sight of six boys fighting on the floor while Seamus sat against a bed in shock, Harry sat opposite, hugging his knees which were drawn up against his chest, and the girls stood shaking in a corner.

'WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON!?!' She screeched, her hands flying to her hips. Suddenly the room went still, everybody staring in shock at Hermione, who had never sworn before.

'Would somebody please tell me how I fell asleep for a few minutes and woke up in the middle of a wrestling match!?'

Ron pulled way from Dean and pushed himself off the floor, stomping over to his girlfriend.

'Did you know Seamus is a queer!?'

'No, I didn't,' she replied calmly, 'but thanks for letting me know, now care to answer my question? what's all the hullabaloo about?'

Seamus smiled slightly as Ron's face grew even more purple. He knew that Hermione was well aware what all the 'hullabaloo' was about and was insinuating that she had no idea that Seamus sexuality would be any cause for such a ruckus.

'He's _queer_, Hermione!' Ron continued, obviously having no clue that he was getting himself into hot water with his girlfriend, 'You know, a fag? Fudge-packer, pillow-biter, shirt-lifter?'

'Oh! You mean he fancies other men?' She asked with a completely phoney innocent expression.

'Yes!' Ron seemed incredibly relieved that she was finally getting it.

'Well so bloody what!?' She suddenly yelled, causing Ron to take a step back in fright, 'So what if he likes men? It's none of your business if he does, what gives you the right to tell him who he can and can't shag!?'

'B…but Hermione……'

'Don't 'but' me, Ronald Weasley! I never knew you were such a bigot! My cousin is gay, Ron, are you going to be a complete dickhead about that? Because if you are, I think we should just break-up right here, right now!'

Ron looked at Hermione in shock, his jaw slack. Hermione certainly knew what she was doing. Seamus almost felt sorry for Ron. Almost. He watched as Hermione sighed heavily and stalked toward the door, grabbing her boyfriend's hand on the way.

'You and I need to have a little chat.' She almost dragged Ron out of the room, but just before he went, he turned and glared at Seamus, his eyes full of hate.

'You _Freak_!' He hissed.

Seamus looked away, hurt, and caught Harry's flinch at the word. He was still wondering what that flinch meant when Alicia stood and herded the other girls out of the room. She bent down and hugged him as she passed, whispering in his ear that she was happy for him and not to worry, everything would calm down. He smiled gratefully at her and accepted a hug off of Katie as well before they all left the room. Lee followed, giving Seamus a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Fred and George tried to apologise, but after a frosty glare from him, they left a few minutes later with their tails between their legs, closing the door quietly behind them. Seamus took some comfort in the fact that the although it hadn't happened by his hand but in the fight, the twins _had_ actually left the room sporting matching black eyes.

All that was left was Harry, Neville, Dean and himself. He looked around at his friends and cleared his throat, unsure of their feelings on the subject.

'So….uh…' Gods, he didn't know what to say! He didn't really want to say anything, he just wanted to crawl into his bed and pull the covers over his head.

'Look Mate,' Dean said, smiling at his friend, 'I don't care that you're gay. I couldn't care less who you wanna shag. You're still the same old Seamus who makes bad jokes and sets things on fire every now and again. Still mates?'

He thrust his hand out for Seamus to shake, and he did, the corners of his mouth curling up in relief. Dean moved closer to him and slung his arm around his shoulder, shaking him until he smiled properly. They smiled at each other for a moment and then looked over at Neville, who was watching them with a small frown and biting his thumb nail. He seemed to realise they were waiting for him to say something and took his hand away from his mouth. He looked at them, his expression serious.

'My Gran thinks Gays are disgusting,' he began, his voice trembling lightly, 'She thinks they're perverts, out to molest kids. She always told me that boys should love girls and if I ever met a 'dirty queer' I should spit in their face and walk away.'

Seamus' heart sank and he turned away from the soft-spoken boy he'd protected from bullies for five years. He swallowed and tried to stop the tears he knew was coming as he heard Neville standing up, probably to leave the room.

He started suddenly as he felt a hand gently touch his shoulder. He turned back to find Neville crouched in front of him, looking apologetic.

'She's wrong.' He said quietly, 'You're not a pervert. I never understood why my Gran said those things. I never understood how a person could be called disgusting just because they fell in love with someone who had the same equipment.

'you've been my friend for five years, Seamus, and the thought of spitting in your face and never speaking to you again makes me want to puke. Don't let Ron make you feel bad, if any of your friends walk away from you because of this, then they weren't your real friends in the first place.'

Seamus smiled at his friend and cringed as he felt a few warm tears make their way down his face. Neville leant forward and hugged him, holding on tightly as he cried. Seamus sniffed quietly and let himself be comforted by his brave friend, who he suddenly respected a whole lot more. It takes a lot of courage to disagree with your family's beliefs.

After a few minutes, they parted and Neville sat down next to Seamus, grinning happily. The three boys had forgotten Harry's presence until they heard a sniffle come from the corner. Seamus looked over and was surprised to find Harry hugging his knees and crying quietly. He wanted to comfort him, but he wasn't sure if Harry was crying because he was friends with a 'fag'. He didn't think Harry was the type to be bothered, but as demonstrated earlier by Ron's spectacular outburst, you never know. He looked at Neville, hoping to get him to talk to Harry, only to see him already crawling over to Harry cautiously.

He sat down next to the upset boy and crossed his legs, putting his hands in his lap.

'Harry, what's wrong?' He asked gently.

Harry lifted his head up, but instead of looking at Neville as he answered, he looked straight at Seamus, who winced thinking he was about to get another ear-bashing.

'I….I think I'm g..gay too.' He whispered.

Of all the things Seamus expected Harry to say at that moment, that hadn't even entered his mind. He stared at Harry in surprise.

'You…..you _think_?'

'I..I know. I know I am.' He burst into tears again, and Neville grabbed him in a tight hug. Neville was on a roll tonight. Seamus and Dean glanced at each other before silently crawling over the hugging boys and each wrapping their arms around them. They all sat that way for about ten minutes until Harry had sniffles had turned into hiccups and then they separated, but kept close to each other, all of them realising that their friendship had reached another lever tonight and none of them wanting to leave the safety of it just yet.

Seamus sat even closer to his friend, the boy he'd always thought of as 'just Harry' rather than the Boy-Who- Lived, and put his arm around him, stroking his dark hair gently. Harry peered at him from under his messy fringe and Seamus chuckled lightly at his appearance. The poor lad's cheeks were a rosy pink usually only seen on shy little girls or the regular drunks at the Hog's Head. He was also having trouble keeping his eyes focussed. He watched as two tears slipped down his face and knew that Harry wouldn't be letting his guard down like this if it hadn't have been for the drink. He lifted his hand and wiped the tears from Harry's face.

'Harry, it's okay, it's not the end of the world. I know Ron reacted badly to me being gay, but he'll come around. You're his best friend, that'll probably make it easier for him to digest……'

'You can't tell him!' Harry suddenly said, looking at Seamus in horror, 'he'll hate me! It's okay for you, Seamus, you've got other friends, but Ron and Hermione are it for me! I need them!'

Seamus looked at Harry on shock.

'Harry, how can you not think we are your friends!?' He asked, gesturing with his hand at the other two boys sat with them, 'we've been your mates since first year! I know we haven't all been bosom buddies or anything, but we've always been there for you, we've always been ready to jump in if you needed us. That's true friendship, being there for you all the time and not abandoning you when things get icky like Ron does.'

Seamus winced. He hadn't meant to bring Ron up, but Harry needed to realise that his relationship with the Weasley boy was no-ones idea of friendship. Seamus had stood back for years and watched the arsehole make a fool of Harry. He remembered the year before when Ron had stopped speaking to Harry because he'd been chosen to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Harry had been gutted. It seemed to Seamus that Ron only wanted to be a friend to Harry when he could catch some fame for being the best friend of the 'Boy-Who-Lived'.

And then there were the months after they'd returned to school to start their fifth year. It had been obvious to Seamus and probably everyone else that Harry wasn't himself after Cedric Diggory's death a few months earlier. He couldn't imaging how horrible it must have been to watch the Hufflepuff boy murdered right in front of him, and he didn't want to. But Harry went through those first months almost in a daze, barely talking. He was drowning in grief and misplaced guilt and Ron, his supposed 'best friend' had been too busy shagging his new girlfriend in various broom closets to notice or help.

Three hours after the whole dorm-room fiasco, Ron still hadn't returned to the room, and Seamus, Dean, Neville and Harry had all been flat out on the floor, drunk. It was the first time any of them had ever seen Harry drunk, and Seamus knew it was only because of the fire-whisky that Harry let anything slip out about his family at all…….

'My Gran, sh'not all bad y'know,' Neville slurred, rolling his head toward Dean, who was lying next to him and looking at him with glazed eyes and a silly smile on his face. Neville, obviously realising that somewhere along the line he'd lost his audience, turned with a grunt to Seamus, who was spread out on the floor to his left, 'sh…she's jusht ol' fashioned! Y'know, in 'er day, there weren't no such things as gay…hic!….gay people!'

Seamus rolled his eyes and then quickly grabbed Neville's chubby arm in a feebly attempt to stop himself falling off the floor.

'Eh…..Neville….hold on,' he said, waiting until the world had stopped spinning before turning to the other boy with a grimace, 'Neville…..Queers 'av always been around, ish just that years ago I would've been lym…lynched probably for even lookin' at a another fella the wrong way. It's safer f'rus to be out nowadays, more assep…..acspe…..er….accepted. Y'know?' He rolled back onto his back and tried to take another sip of whisky.

'But you're right y'know,' he continued, wiping the dribbled drink off of his face, 'families are a lotta wo…hic….work. My Mam, she's …like….she knows I'm queer, yeah? An she's fine with it…but….my Da, he'd freakin' murder me, y'know?'

'My family…..th'hate queers,' Seamus hear an extremely inebriated Harry murmer from his left, 'they'd do worse than murder me if th'found out.'

Seamus turned to him and winced in sympathy. Harry was so far gone he was nearly asleep. It was obvious he was too drunk to even be aware of what he was Saying, and he was going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning.

'Nah, Haz, dun worry, mate,' he tried to console, reaching over and swatting at Harry three times before he finally managed to pat the lad's shoulder, 'your family, the'll understan', they wun' hate yuh…..'

'They already ha…hate me.' Harry interrupted, his voice low and sleepy, 'they already beat the crap outta me for being a freak, what they gonna do t'me when they find out I…..I'm a perverted little faggot.'

Seamus looked to his friend in shock, aware of Dean and Neville sitting up beside him.

'They….they hit you? Harry….You're messin' about, yeah? Harry?' He prodded his friend and scowled when he realised he'd fallen asleep. He looked back at the others and stared at them, disbelief and concern painting his face.

'He was kidding, right?'

Dean shrugged unhappily, and Neville just watched Harry sadly. Seamus was worried. Could Harry have been telling the truth? Wait, don't all kids think their families hate them? But what about that word…..freak? He remembered suddenly Harry flinching when Ron had spat the word back into the room as he left. But that could have been because he was gay too, right? He could have just took the comment personally? And Harry's drunken comment about his Aunt and Uncle beating him? He probably received a spanking once and was over-exaggerating ….right?

The boys eventually dragged an unconscious Harry into his bed and climbed into their own with dread, knowing the headaches they'd be suffering with in the morning. All three of them tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep for worrying over their vulnerable friend.

The next morning, the boys' hangovers had descended upon them with a vengeance and Harry's slip from the night before had been forgotten until they were on the way home on the train. When seamus and the other boys had settled into their compartment, having avoided joining the one that contained Ron and the twins, he had watched Harry stare out the window miserably watching the old castle fading into the distance. As he observed Harry's forlorn expression, the conversation from the night before trickled back to him. He still wasn't certain that Harry hadn't been over-exaggerating, but just in case, just before Harry left the train he scribbled his mobile number on a scrap piece of parchment and pushed it into Harry's hand telling him he'd be staying at his Nan's in Liverpool from the third week into the holiday and if Harry needed help at all over the vacation, to call him. Just in case.

He was already back in his bedroom in Ireland before he remembered that the Fire-whisky from the night before had been laced with Veritaserum.

He'd thought a lot about Harry in the four weeks since he'd seen him last, and the conclusions he'd come to weren't happy ones. He thought….no he _knew_ now that Harry was abused at home. Too many things pointed to it……little things Harry said or did, little mannerisms and quirks that he'd noticed over the years, but never quiet paid much attention to.

Like how abnormally tidy Harry was. Amidst the usual messiness of teenage boys, there were one or two of their group who made sure to make their beds in the morning and put their dirty clothes in the hampers, but Harry seemed to take it to the extreme. He made his bed in the morning, yes, but the covers _had_ to be pulled tight, the sheets crease free. Harry made sure to put his clothes in the laundry, but Seamus had caught him once washing them in the showers before putting them in. He hadn't said anything at the time, but he had never quite forgotten the sight of his friend crouched in the showers trying to stay out of the spray as he almost frantically scrubbed at one of his school shirts with a bar of soap.

And that was just the tip of the iceberg. Harry would go around the dorm room every morning before class and pick up after the other lads, their dirty laundry, their bits of rubbish, any books or gadgets left lying around. He was always the last to leave potions and herbology, spending longer than everyone else cleaning up after himself.

And he had an odd little habit of hiding books. Seamus had spied him lifting up the mattress on his bed and shoving books under there. He'd dig them out at night and read them under the blankets with his wand providing the light, so Seamus had been amused, thinking Harry was hiding porn or something, but he'd peeked once when Harry was at Quidditch practice and found 'Treasure Island' and 'War of the Worlds'.

And then there were his little quirks with food. Instead of digging into his meal when it appeared on the table, Harry would take his time, savouring each bite. Seamus grinned to himself, remembering Harry's performance with the ice-cream earlier. He lost the smile slowly, his thoughts taking him back to Harry's strange eating habits.

He seemed to enjoy the Hogwarts food very much, but he never finished his meals, and more than a few times Seamus had watched him gaze longingly at his plate like he wanted desperately to eat the rest of the food, but wasn't allowed. He rarely ate dessert, but when he did, he would be very quiet afterwards, as if trying not to be noticed. And whenever he brought back sweets from Hogsmeade, he'd hide them away with his books and eat them at night as he read.

His behaviour was just so…..odd. The cleanliness, the eating, the way he hid things, the way he rarely liked to be touched, even if it was just a hand on his shoulder, the way he flinched whenever someone made a sudden movement near him or raised their voice. The way his behaviour was always so much worse those first few weeks after spending the summer with his family. Seamus wasn't stupid, it had taken a while for it all to click with him, but he knew what all those things probably meant, and he knew the others at school probably knew too but were afraid to say anything.

He smiled at his pal now as Harry came and sat himself next to him on the couch holding one of the many books he'd picked up from Borders on the High street. Alan joined them, handing them their tea, and Seamus winked at him. Tonight they would take Harry to Hu Tianbo, the club where he and Alan had first met, and with their help, Harry would finally learn how to let his hair down. Seamus couldn't wait.

END CHAPTER


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